


Self Analysis

by kalypsobean



Category: Crossing Lines
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Feminist Themes, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:47:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8907790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalypsobean/pseuds/kalypsobean
Summary: Anne-Marie gets back to work and finds something in one of the unit's cases that she wants to look at more. Eva helps, with a side of advice. (Set early season one)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [athersgeo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/athersgeo/gifts).



"Run it down and let me know," was a statement Anne-Marie had heard many times before. It usually meant the end of a conversation, the kind of end that implied that it wouldn't be brought up again.

She'd never heard it said without any kind of inflection, or seen it come with a small nod. "Let Sebastian know if you need anything."

That, then, was the end of the conversation, because the Major was drawn into a conversation with Hickman, the kind that was in low voices and was taken behind a door, usually closed in her face. But the Major looked at her before letting Hickman lead him away, and she nodded, because that was what she was supposed to do. That was how she'd seen others do it.

 

It was so different, and not just made so by being in a new city, a new office, a new team. Sebastian waved to her as she shrugged her jacket on. "Anything," he said. "Really. I'm very bored right now."

"Thanks," she said, and he turns away, spinning on his chair to look at something on one of his screens, a pen twirling in the air almost untouched by his fingers. He hadn't been paying much attention, she realises; he'd heard his name, and looked up only to reassure her that he would be available. That was more familiar, but again, it felt different; it hadn't come with any expectation that she would need him. 

 

It wasn't that she had been glad to move, or that she'd found her previous team lacking or sexist; she was on loan, and hoped to go back. It just feels awkward, somehow, to not have had to have fought her way up to being treated as an equal.

"Want company?" Eva said, and she realises, suddenly, that she'd been lost in thought enough to not have noticed her approach.

"Sure," she says. "Are we driving? she adds, since Eva already has keys in her hand. 

"If you don't mind," Eva says, and she shrugs. Anne-Marie had been intending on taking a train, but she's grateful to not have to navigate timetables and then be in close proximity to people after her task. 

 

It was a small leap for her to make, really, to connect their ring to the traffickers. It had started as a fleeting thought, a moment of personal reflection on hearing about the case - _I could never handle that many children_. It was the kind of thought that she supposed most people had when they compared themselves to others, the same way they wished they were that tall or had that much money. She would have dismissed it in the same way as she sometimes dismissed looking up to Eva, wondering how she seemed to fit in so effortlessly, but it recurred, and not through being reminded. It became _how would anyone manage that many children?_ and then _what if they didn't keep all the children?_.

She hadn't needed Sebastian to look into that for her; she'd found enough on her own in the evidence they already had. It was enough that she'd shown it to the Major, payments coming in on a timeframe that seemed random, but roughly matched with known cases she'd found in the news and from her contacts, a suspiciously few number of girls they'd found living with the mechanic and his wife, given that the victims were supposedly chosen at random. It was enough that he trusted her to talk to the wife, still in custody as Dorn negotiated the charges and assembled his own part of the case. 

 

"How are you settling in?" Eva said, when they were out of the carpark and Anne-Marie was just being distracted by how cool the sunlight felt through the window. 

"Fine," she said, because that's how it was. It was fine. Things were different than she was used to, and it wasn't easy to fit in, especially as everyone seemed to have their own personal cause they weren't willing to share, but it wasn't hard. It wasn't terrible. She was still in pain, but it was subsiding enough that she wouldn't let it hold her back.

"You know, you earned your place here," Eva says. They were, as was common, only travelling slowly. It took her a minute to process, too, since half her mind was still rearranging evidence, as if she could find the magic question to ask that confirm her suspicions. "You don't need to keep proving yourself."

"I'm not," she says. "Really, I'm not," she says. Eva gives her a look; traffic around them is still, and it's then that Anne-Marie realises that Eva had offered to drive just to be able to say that, away from the office, where someone would hear and not understand.

"It's hard sometimes, though," she said, trusting that Eva will know what that meant. Nobody got to where they were without some kind of drive, or winning a few fights that left a sour taste on reflection. Nobody got to where they were by being honest; all the higher-ups she knew were shielded, somehow, whether it was keeping their home life separate or sacrificing it completely, whether they had that one case that gnawed at them, as if by being the one that got away it served as motivation to keep going and leave nothing else unresolved. They made colleagues and contacts, not friends.

"It can be lonely," Eva said, as if reading her thoughts. It was as if she knew, even, what it was like. "Doesn't have to be, but it can feel that way."

"You're so confident," she said, and then told herself off for blurting it out like that, as if it was some kind of hero worship. 

"I'm not, really," Eva said. Traffic started to move again, and she changed gears, taking advantage of a chance to switch lanes. "I pretend, and nobody can tell the difference."

"I wouldn't have guessed," she said. 

"Exactly," Eva said, and suddenly, she was parking outside the prison. Anne-Marie stretched when she got out of the car. She could smell salt, though she didn't know quite how far from the beach they were; she told herself it might be worth finding out, later.

"Want to sit in?" she said, and Eva's smile was wide and brilliant in response. 

 

She expected that Eva would have heard everything she said to the Major, but she summarised her suspicions and the evidence, though circumstantial, as they waited in the interview room. Eva didn't ask her any questions, which she chose to think was good, if it meant she had covered everything she could with what she had. She thought, for a moment, she saw a slight change of expression, but she dismissed it as a shadow. 

"It's solid enough," Eva said, when she was done. "What do you want me to do?"

Anne-Marie thinks over that, for a minute, because she had expected to do this alone.

"Focus on the children's wellbeing," she says. "Make her feel like you think she just wanted what was best for them. She might respond to that." 

Eva nods, but the door opens, and anything she might have said is put aside by the entrance of a prison officer. He ignores them in favour of obviously and deliberately checking the room's recording equipment, and then waves at someone outside when the light turns green. Eva rolls her eyes and Anne-Marie smiles back, but then the woman is brought in, and the interview starts. 

 

It's only in the car on the way back to the office, though, that Eva lets her professional countenance drop. Anne-Marie had noticed, though the woman had only been able to recall things she'd overheard, not enough to give them confirmation, it had been hard for Eva; she had stiffened, when the woman looked at her. 

Eva had gone undercover on this case, she remembered, too late to offer anything, or even a way out. She'd nudged Eva's leg with her foot, hoping it would be understood as support, but it was all she could do in the interview, and afterwards Eva seemed to want the quiet, the same way she sometimes did, as if it was a way to distance herself from the case. It made Anne-Marie want to never be left behind again - to be as useful as possible, to take her share of the work.

"What do you think?" Eva said, eventually. 

"I don't think we'd get a warrant from it," she said. 

"But you can't ignore it, can you?" Eva said. 

"No," she said. "I can't." Even though she knew that it was unlikely they'd be able to identify all the children, let alone find them. They might not have families to return to, if there was nobody left to report them missing.

"Use it," Eva said. 

 

The Major seemed to have been waiting for them. "Not enough," she said, and summarised the interview, but he seemed pleased. 

"What do I look for?" Sebastian said. Anne-Marie was beginning to be very careful about what she said; everyone seemed to be able to hear, even though the Major's office was away from the open plan area. "I am already scanning for possible victims. It might be helpful if I could match with missing children databases."

"Coffee?" Eva said, and Anne-Marie nodded. Eva slipped away, and though she only went to her desk, it felt like something had ended. She blinked to clear her head and, when she was focused, she followed Sebastian to his desk. The profile was simple - girls between eight and eighteen, reported missing by friends or extended families, or extended absences from school - but for a moment, she felt like she'd achieved something, even though the result wasn't clear. Perhaps, she thought, she would stay longer; become friends with Eva, learn what she could and take it with her when she moved on, so she wouldn't be left behind again.


End file.
